Speaking of bags…

It all started when my sister was here and I took her shopping. Only I think I ended up buying more things but nvm. Actually, she wanted a bag and we started looking in this shop and then I realised that I had to have a new bag because my current work bag is:

a) Three years old

b) Prone to losing things owing to its inability to hold a hard backed book, umbrella, my fat wallet and the odd banana at one go. Let’s not even get into makeup. Thankfully I generally prefer to go au naturel face-wise, blackheads notwithstanding.

c) Heavy (being leather, not because of everything I stuff into it on a daily basis)

Unfortunately, the bag I saw, while not in the designer stakes, was kind of expensive. Sometimes I annoy me for liking the expensive things and being unable to choose the cheaper, decent ones. Like I keep saying, I don’t care if it’s not leather because leather is so heavy (and also mean to animals) but then I somehow rarely end up liking anything except the leather ones.

Of course, I was scared V would start ranting because he is sick of the space (literal and wallet-wise) that my stuff takes up. When I told him, my sis and me were in a bag shop, he curtly said: “Good. As long as she gets one and you don’t.” See what I mean about Mr Darcy. It’s kind of sexy to be around someone bossy but very annoying also.

Anyway, finally my sis decided not to get a bag because she didn’t like any and decided to buy me one. Which solved the problem of V moaning about me wasting money. That’s what I love about sisters, also. They always step in and buy you stuff. And you never have to feel guilty like with other people because that’s what sisters are for.

Except then I was in this hideous quandry and panic about which bag was The One. I went back to the shop which had started sis and me on the bag-quest and V summarilly ruled out all my choices (see, this is another annoying part about being married. I cannot make major shopping decisions without V’s approval. I can’t even go shopping with friends. I have to show V first. And by this, I mean not because he makes me or anything but because his is the only opinion that really seems to count for me. Which is very irritating sometimes when he’s not agreeing with me).

It was ok though because deep down I was lusting after another bag. I even googled it to see if there were discounted options. But it’s so painful, all the really good shopping tips are in Chinese.Hmph!

Anyway, last weekend, V and I just happened to be going to Langham Place where this bag shop was so I dragged him to it. First we did the rounds of all the other bag and shoe shops on the floor just to check out the options. But once we entered this shop, it was clear that I pretty much was fixated.

Only I couldn’t decide on a bag. I was in love with practically every single one in the shop and I kept driving V mad by saying “do you like this?” a hundred times. He used to be very patient shopping but now, while being better than the average guy, he’s prone to rolling his eyes and saying stuff like “hurry up”.

Then I wasted precious time throwing a mini-tantrum because V went outside and started talking to his sis on the phone instead of supporting me in my hour of crisis. A sign of how crazy I with bag-lust I was (and fickle because I couldn’t decide which bag was the object of my affection) was that I spent only a minute talking to our two-year-old niece on the phone during which time she told me to “buy the green one” and I said “should I get the yellow one” and she said “No! the green one.”

But I didn’t get the green one. I got the yellow one. Because I figured that it would match with most of my clothes and I don’t have to match all the time. And because it makes me happy.

And I got the big one, although it looks a bit sporty. Because then I don’t have to think about what to fit into it. And although it’s leather, yesterday, I put three shoes in it (to get them fixed at the roadside cobblers) in addition to all my stuff and it was still lighter than my other bag.

I was sooo excited the first day I took it to work and V kept teasing me by saying stuff like “look it’s torn!” and I would panic and he would laugh. And then it was raining and I knew I should’ve left it home but I couldn’t bear to but I kept wiping it down and checking for minor damage. Which has never happened to me with a bag before. Because no matter how much I love a bag, I expect it to be hardy.